Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (143/?) WiP 1

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Here is the Work in Progress for Chapter 143 I hope you guys enjoy! :D

Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Dragon Heart’s Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Living Room. Local Time: 1900 Hours

Thacea

Scratch.

Flip.

Scribble.

Riiiiippppp.

These were the sounds that had dominated much of the evening. 

In place of the boisterous energy of the ever-unpredictable Emma, or the confrontational yet friendly approaches of the constantly-contemplative Thalmin, there now existed silence. 

A silence interrupted exclusively by the clerical sounds of our academic endeavors. 

I expected Ilunor to have remained locked within his quarters, or to have perhaps cordoned off a section of the living room to himself. His cries for privacy and his desire for ‘peace and quiet’ had dominated every other conversation over the span of the previous few weeks, after all. Which meant that this was very much the golden opportunity to make the most out of this lull in action, to isolate and preoccupy himself with the finer pleasures in life; free from any possibility of interruption or distractions.

Yet here he was, partaking in my company — albeit without conversation — and ruminating in the same silence that had once seemed impossible just a day prior.

Perhaps it was simply because he knew I lacked the incentive and motivation to disrupt his personal endeavors. 

Or perhaps he simply enjoyed the larger and more spacious appointments of the living room itself.

Whatever it was, we maintained this company-in-silence, aware of either party’s presence, yet acting as if neither existed.

It was… darkly comforting, or more accurately — darkly reminiscent of what I knew.

Emma’s presence was the one rare instance in which this status quo was broken, and perhaps I’d simply grown too accustomed to her company.

I had to remind myself that this lifestyle was simply unsustainable. I had to temper my resolve in the understanding that this was perhaps the best I could expect once these five years were said and done.

The silence spurred on some much needed self-reflection — and for the first time in a long time brought on thoughts I did not wish to ponder — eventually landing on those prophetic words from Thalmin on our first day.

‘Just don’t let the Earthrealmer become your anchor, Princess.’

This disruption in what was our new status quo brought that sentiment to the forefront… and I couldn’t help but to wonder if there was indeed credence to the lupinor’s premature warnings.

…

But I refused to ponder such matters. At least, not when I could actually enjoy silence for silence’s sakes. And so, I pushed forwards, flipping through textbook after textbook and tome after tome, jotting down, writing, and preemptively completing homework that was due to be assigned in several weeks’ time.

Scribble.

Scratch.

Flip.

Consumed by thoughts and preoccupied by studies, I found myself inexplicably disregarding Ilunor’s increasingly restless motions. Barely even registering the dropping of his quill, his attempts at ‘heavy’ footsteps, and his perusal of the endless line of snack carts that had now formed a sort of traffic deadlock in our room. I’d only registered his presence on the sofa following the heavy thump of his tail onto the adaptive cushioning of the upholstery. 

And even then, not a word nor glance was exchanged.

Our mutual silence was poised to continue, as the Vunerian pulled out a notebook and began scribbling across its pages.

Scribble.

Scribble.

Flip.

The clerical duet surged forwards, ceaselessly into the night.

Until finally—

SLAM!!

It all came to a sudden and abrupt halt.

I finally turned to face the Vunerian, my eyes holding within them neither contempt nor complacency, but merely a polite and questioning glance that seemed to incur further frustration in the Nexian noble.

“Princess.” Ilunor addressed me politely.

“Ilunor.” I responded with the same courtesy.

Yet despite our opening overture, neither of us seemed poised for conversation, as even Ilunor shifted his gaze, turning to the window as if he’d find some prompts for a starter outside.

“Pleasant weather we’re having.” He finally continued.

“Indeed. Though given it is the Nexus, I assume it is pleasant for all eternity, no?”

“One would think. But there are exceptions, especially for the Outlands as you might expect.”

“Being on the territorial extent of the Farlands, I can imagine turbulent primavalic energies, or new manasprings and similar such mana-based geological features would probably interfere with nth tier spells and infrastructure designed to control the weather.”

“Quite. Though one must also consider the direct impact turbulent and concentrated manastreams have on the weather in general.”

“Yes, yes. Quite.” I nodded, as the both of us stared at each other in varying degrees of rehearsed politeness.

…

Only for it to slowly crumble from the inside, as evidenced by the vacantness behind both of our gazes, and the lack of anything behind the thin veneer of earnestness therein.

“It occurs to me that we are both…” Ilunor trailed off, his eyes and even his tone of voice urging me to complete his thoughts.

“—resorting to the most stereotypical of choruses in the theatre of life?” I obliged, garnering a sigh of equal parts frustration and relief from the Vunerian.

“Quite.” He acknowledged assertively.

We broke our gazes once more, each of us darting our eyes this way and that, before collectively sighing to varying degrees of breathy discontent.

“It is evident that we have a sore lack of… rapport, princess. At least as it pertains to rapport of the direct variety.” 

I cocked my head ever so slightly, crossing my legs as I did so. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, princess.” Ilunor shot back instantly. “Let us not lose ourselves in our own games. Though if it must be spelled out, then so be it. Princess, I believe that in our constant sprint from crisis to crisis, that we have woefully overlooked our bilateral interpersonal connections. We have instead offloaded that ever-vital component of a strong and resilient peer group, to the more vocal, forward, and at times crass members of our little group. We — as the more studious and refined amidst our peers — have been sidelined and kept at arm’s length. Perhaps it is time that we break this mold, and start now, yes?”

I stared at the Vunerian bluntly, my eyes finally allowing its facade to fade, as I now leveled an unamused piercing gaze to lock firmly with Ilunor’s draconic set. 

“Perhaps you mistook my query for anything other than rhetorical. So allow me to spell it out.” I crossed my wings, closing the book within my talons with a firm SNAP! “Need I remind you that until very recently, the only reason for this lack of bilateral interpersonal connection wasn’t the fault of any of our adventures, crises, or even our respective places in this group dynamic. It was solely and exclusively a result of your adamant stance on conflating the nature of my affliction with the content of my character. And it was with that, that you decided against pursuing any rapport with me, solely on this basis.”

I felt my whole body tensing at the tail end of that retort. My talons trembled in place, as it felt like the carefully constructed social barriers I’d constructed had shattered in one fell swoop. 

But this wasn’t without precedence. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t partaken in such verbal assaults before. 

The only difference was that this time, I was being far, far too blunt with my assault.

Perhaps Emma’s sensibilities were rubbing off on me too much.

This reaction however, wasn’t limited to myself, but to Ilunor as well. The Vunerian’s features shift from outright shock, to scarcely a second of quiet contemplation, before finally shifting course entirely with a renewed vigor.

“I…” He paused, as if pondering — or more specifically forcing — out the next few words in his gaping maw.